Did you ever have had an unusually rotten day at work? To clarify, I'm not talking about those normal daily annoyances that plague us all, but rather a spectacularly horrible series of disasters that haunt your dreams and occasionally produce a bed jarring, full-body flinch during the REM cycle.

Several years ago I survived such an experience and thanks to the profound advances in the area of pharmaceutical sciences, I am able to tell you about it.

Selling copiers is not for the faint of heart, in fact, it's a difficult gig that looses more employees to insanity than postal positions and junior high teaching jobs combined. Look it up. For nearly two years I managed to hold down a job in the office machine industry without selling a single copier, not one. Amazingly, my managers never lasted more than a few months at the helm and the new bosses always kept me around resolved to draw out my true selling potential. I was able to fly nicely under the radar without as much as a scratch until one fateful day in March when the wheels came off, literally.

Opportunity knocked when a bank in a small local town called into my office inquiring about purchasing a new copier. Stunned at first, I feverishly answered their questions and booked a demonstration appointment for the following week. Could the great copier sales drought of the 80's be coming to an end for me? I was excited.

On the morning of my big demo I strapped a brand new machine onto a dolly, loaded the copier into the company van and headed out to make sales history. Arriving in town just before 8am, I spied a perfect parking space right in front of the bank. I had been in this tiny hamlet once before for a sales presentation to the Knight's of Columbus (both of them), and I knew that the bank sat atop a steep hill in the middle of town. For once, I didn't get lost on the way to an appointment, the day showed great promise.

With little effort I freed the dolly from the back of the vehicle and rolled into the bank brimming with confidence. A crowd of eager bank workers gathered around the machine as I launched into my pitch. Producing a crumpled piece of paper from my jacket inside pocket, I attempted to show my audience how I could run even a battered document through this marvelous machine and avoid the usual jams associated with more inferior models. What followed was the mother of all jams, gears grinded, the plastic housing shuttered, and all copying activities ceased.

Seizing the moment I quickly explained that clearing jams were a snap with this particular model and began searching compartments for the offending paper. What I hadn't realized was that my tie had slipped into the sorter/stapler during my frantic search. A well meaning teller sensed that I was in distress and stepped in to help me. She dislodged one of the jams and accidentally activated the machine into copy mode, riveting my tie with a blast of staples. My neckwear was now stuck in the copier and I struggled to escape. Thankfully, my helper was able to free me by borrowing a scissor from a nearby desk and severing my tie at the knot.

Nearly choked and disoriented I gathered up my belongings and ended my demonstration with the promise of bringing back another machine. Humiliated, I pushed my goods to the van and opened the double doors. When I turned to face the copier, the machine had vanished! Failing to engage the dolly break, the damaged duplicator and half of my tie were now rolling down the sidewalk at a high rate of speed. Adding to the excitement, the runaway dolly was on a collision course with a group of pedestrians on their way to work. Horrified, I dashed down the street, arms flailing, warning these innocent bystanders of the oncoming juggernaut. Citizens scattered in all directions avoiding serious injury as the rambling calamity jumped the curb and t-boned a paneled truck waiting for a traffic light. I tidal wave of liquid ink rose from the scene of the accident covering me and several onlookers. Three month later I was still finding ink spots on my skin.

Sadly, this incident ended my office equipment sales career pretty much on the spot and cost me a few bucks in reparations and dry cleaning.

Since this episode I have been searching the globe for work related disaster tales others have endured in hopes of making myself feel better. Do you have a work experience that torments your very soul? If you are amenable to sharing and are the keeper of a particularly bizarre tale please email me at jon.kaufman@sprint.com. I may use your nightmarish account in a future article.

Until then, be careful out there, danger lurks around every corner and sometimes it is carrying five gallons of ink.

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